George Anston Gets the Point

George Anston was preparing for his clandestine meeting across town. He knew there would be danger at every step but nothing would stop him from reaching his rendezvous. He sharpened a brand new number 2 pencil and slid it inside his black trench coat. No use bringing a pen to a pencil fight. He stepped cautiously to his front door and peered out into the dark hallway. No telling when Mrs. Granston’s viscous chihuadoodle would be terrorizing the compound. He knew better than to judge a threat by its’ size. George listened for the telltale sounds of tiny paws click clicking on the grey floor then headed for the ominous steel door that lead to unknown threats and danger.

As soon as he stepped into the bleak alley the premonition of doom filled him with an adrenaline that flowed down to his feet. One step, faster, two steps, faster, three steps, faster. With every stride his pace sped up. His ears were tuned to the sound of furtive pursuit echoing through the treacherous lane behind him.

Streetlights shined like a beacon on the busy avenue ahead. If he could just make it to the corner before a knife plunged into his back.

George jumped to the ground when he heard the rat-a-tat-tat of a machine gun. He dared not move from his hiding place on the dirty concrete as he heard footsteps heading his way.

Two ebony robed figures approached until they stared down at him. He gasped and wondered if they were some type of ninja assassins sent to execute him. Their black veils hid their faces in shadow. One assistant was tall and imposing, the other was short and stocky. A perfect pair of towering and low lying man-slayers.

An eerie voice flowed out of the darkness towards him.

“Are you okay sir? Did you fall?”

George barked a reply.

“Get down, didn’t you hear that machine gun go off?”

The robed figures looked at each other in confusion.

“Did you hear a machine gun sister?”

“No, I sure didn’t.”

A pale boney hand reached out to him from the black shroud. George shivered as the cold hand clasped his. He stood up slowly and whipped out his trusty pencil.

“Be warned, you foul murderers, I have a newly sharpened number two Dixon Ticonderoga and I know how to use it. I have a black belt in pencil so don’t push your luck.”

He could imagine the two robed mercenaries sneering behind their concealing shrouds. He wasn’t deceived when they both shrugged their shoulders.

George peered back into the darkness behind him searching for ruthless cutthroats lurking in the shadows.

“Hah! You’ll never get me you filthy low-lifes.”

He jumped at the sound of crashing metal. Did they send a lethal android to destroy him? He laughed when he saw a mangey black cat emerging from an overturned garbage can.

“Nice try, you’re not fooling me.”

The two dark figures stared at each other and shook their heads in wonderment as they headed toward the avenue. The stocky assassin turned and waved him forward.

“Come on, we’ll walk with you to the station.”

George still wasn’t sure about his new companions. They could have easily hidden sawed off shotguns or cutlasses under their dark robes. They hadn’t killed him yet so he decided to take a chance and cautiously followed the pair out of the gloom to the bright lights of the busy avenue.

They were waiting at the intersection when the sound of machine gun fire went off again. George was about to hit the deck when he realized the noise was coming from the walk sign to signal it was time to cross the street.

George carefully followed the two dark figures into the crosswalk while searching for a speeding vehicle charging towards him with evil intentions.

When they stepped up to the curb on the other side one of his escorts turned and addressed George in a weary voice.

“Here is the station. We are heading that way towards the convent.”

He didn’t reply but snorted when they turned their backs and bustled down the crowded lane.

“Go ahead and run you cowards, they know better than to mess with a mean hombre and his number two pencil. The next time I won’t be so easy on you.”

He chuckled to himself as he thought about how easy he had shook them off his tail. His true destination was around the corner not the train station.

George casually ambled up the street like he didn’t have a care in the world. He paused at several display windows checking behind him to make sure he wasn’t being followed.

He made sure he stopped in front of the Pointed Statement office supply store and surveyed the large selection of number two pencils. There was a vast array of Faber-Castell, Dixon Ticonderoga and even some Bic pencils but a new brand called Mirado Black Warrior caught his attention. He would have to check those out later. They would make a great addition to his armory. Desperate times called for sharp pencils.

He ignored the normal riff-raff and their cunning ploys. A guy dressed in matching activewear and green running shoes stopped to ask him if it was April 31. George laughed in his face.

“What do you think I am, some dope on Reedsy who doesn’t know that April 31 is not a real date?”

George walked around the block several times before he decided it was safe to enter the cold steel and concrete tower for his secret conference. He swaggered into the corporate hideout and nodded confidently at the uniformed lookout at the front desk. The alert watchdog yawned and returned his nod.

“Mornin’ Mr. Anston.”

George whipped around and glared at the loose lipped man.

“Fingers, how many times have I told you not to call me that. You never know who might be listening.”

The guard smiled at the nickname George used for him and played along as usual.

“Sorry sir, I will be more vigilant next time.”

“See that you are or the Don will hear of it.”

George harrumphed and stormed to the elevators. His fingers shook as he pressed the button for the 21st floor. No telling what the boss would have for him today. It was best not to be late or irritate the big man, some folks had ended up as fish food for less.

He cautiously opened the door and stepped into the secret lair of power .

Trixie was behind her desk looking tough and efficient.

“Hi, Mr. Anston, you’re right on time as usual, step right in he is waiting for you.”

George knew better than to correct a vicious gun moll like her. No telling how many pencils she had hidden in her desk.

He slowly opened the door and peered inside. You can never be too cautious with a man like Kranowitz, you might get your head blown off.

“Ah, George come on in and let’s get down to business.”

Doctor Kranowitz picked a note pad off of his desk and grabbed a number two Mirado Black Warrior Pencil. George’s eyes opened wider than the Brooklyn tunnel as he dashed out the door, past the startled receptionist and out into the 21st floor lobby. He frantically pounded on the elevator call button as he muttered, “He pulled a Mirado Black Warrior on me. I should’ve known he was out to get me, I’m sure to be erased, filled with lead or both.”